They say to put your best foot first.
What happens when your first step is your worst?
When you've put hundreds of hours into the race,
But all along you've been running in place?
I see the skyline silhouette the trees,
I feel the moisture in every chill breeze.
Yet all I feel is this urge to destroy,
Cold and desolate; just a heartbroken boy.
Far and wide, I've searched my soul,
But this bastard inside is hard to control.
Like walking down the loneliest road,
Into a trapdoor that nobody knows.
This callused dream is all I see,
When I wake to my warped reality.
In light, so bright, I can't find my way,
My logic festers for yet another day.
'Till that logic withers and falls ill,
Illogical thought becomes malevolent will,
The will to change gets sown too deep,
Ill-logic ferments, and broken hearts we reap